


The Golden Apples Of The Sun

by Afloatingsubmariner (orphan_account)



Series: Fimbulvetr [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Amora & Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Artist Steve Rogers, BAMF Sif, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, For Science!, Gen, Howard Stark is not an asshole, Jötunn Loki, Kid Fic, Kid Loki, Kid Thor, Kid Tony, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Magic and Science, Other, Protective Thor, Science Fiction & Fantasy, The Nine Realms, Thor & Tony Stark Friendship, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Hates Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Afloatingsubmariner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Humans know the nine realms' existence since the Middle Ages and are still living under the Allfather's protection. Using Aesir as their role models and fearing the threats coming from outside, each and every mortal must learn how to fight. The most gifted of them receive Odin's Blessing. During this special ceremony, they swear to protect and serve Asgard at any cost. Tony Stark, a six years old boy, is about to get it without knowing his life is about to change drastically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Golden Apples Of The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is a little bit inspired from the movie Moonrise Kingdom directed by Wes Anderson. It will be quite a challenge to write for I mixed stuff from Marvel movies and Norse Mythology. I hope you will enjoy it though. 
> 
>  
> 
> The song of Wandering Aengus
> 
> I went out to the hazel wood,  
> Because a fire was in my head,  
> And cut and peeled a hazel wand,  
> And hooked a berry to a thread;
> 
> And when white moths were on the wing,  
> And moth-like stars were flickering out,  
> I dropped the berry in a stream  
> And caught a little silver trout.
> 
> When I had laid it on the floor  
> I went to blow the fire a-flame,  
> But something rustled on the floor,  
> And some one called me by my name:  
> It had become a glimmering girl  
> With apple blossom in her hair  
> Who called me by my name and ran  
> And faded through the brightening air.
> 
> Though I am old with wandering  
> Through hollow lands and hilly lands,  
> I will find out where she has gone,  
> And kiss her lips and take her hands;  
> And walk among long dappled grass,  
> And pluck till time and times are done  
> The silver apples of the moon,  
> The golden apples of the sun. 
> 
> W.B. Yeats

 

In the middle of the night, a bunch of masked children carrying lights in their hands, are running through the woods. From afar, you can catch a glimpse of their shimmering lights moving quickly and mistake them for fireflies. The leader of the group is wearing a huge eagle’s head on his face, followed closely by two foxes chuckling as a small peacock behind them is losing some feathers on the ground.

They jump, trip over rocks, shout at each other all the way down in the forest where the deepest darkness reside. Yet if you take a closer look you can see none of the children were scared. Neither owls’ hooting, growls of strange predators nor the wind howling in the trees, shattering the branches as sharp as claws, could smother the children’s giggles. Their laughs jingle like bells, careless of waking up hidden monsters.

Finally, they cross a river and stop their tracks in a clearing. One by one, the children take off their masks, adorned by glittering stones, paintings and papier mâché. First the peacock, a shy-looking elf, for her mask weighs too heavy on her head, then the mocking foxes, two human boys, and lastly, the eagle, a jötunn in his teens. Behind their disguises, proud smiles reveal themselves on breathless faces. Adrenaline is still shining in their eyes. The leader puts a finger to his closed lips to order silence. His friends clasp their hands on their mouths, nodding vigorously at him except one of the foxes who sticks his tongue at him.

 

He whispers in a sneering tone: “No need for that, moron, there is no one except us here.”

 

All the children shush him in perfect harmony. The elf is surprisingly daring enough to hit him on the top of the head. A wicked expression establishes itself on the jötunn’s face. He brings his lantern closer to his red eyes, making them glow like gems. Red like blood.

 

Shadows of other children, elves, dwarves, giants, humans, aesir are now encircling the small group as the jötunn leader purrs to the quivering fox: “No one is alone in this universe, my friend.”

He blows out the flame in his lantern. Everyone mimics his gesture and darkness sighs in relief as she can rule completely on the woods. Then, a girl gasps when she feels a hand playing with her braid. Children’s ears twitch to the sound of unknown fabric rustling on the ground, pushing dead leaves aside. An invisible being has made his entrance. All of them snap at a strange noise echoing among the trees. Someone is watching them from above! So, they raise their gazes to the sky when a hooded and slender figure is revealing itself in all its glory. The stranger stretches his or her legs and jumps from the branches to land slowly next to the children. The stranger stands up gracefully, showing long and blue legs supported by heels through a slit cut on her dress for the older boys’ biggest pleasure. Now, the children have figured out what kind of person they are facing.

 

The stranger says in a rich voice: “Well, boys and girls, what a happy surprise. I would have never expected so many faces after sending your families the invitations.”

 

The stranger takes off her hood. The children display different reactions, among them; awe and surprise fight for the first position. The lady’s skin is covered of blue scales contrasting with her short and red hair. Children were used to all kind of appearances for all living beings in the nine realms could travel and meet each other very easily but no one in the small crowd could clearly identify from what place she came from. Jötunheimr? Ālfheimr? She is obviously not human. Her golden eyes pierce through the thick veils of darkness and subtler rays of light emitting from the moon that has finally succeeded to get rid of the clouds. The children shudder under her scrutinizing gaze. She looks much, much older than her looks suggest. Some of the kids show their respect by bowing to the woman.

 

The blue lady chuckles and adds: “My, I will perform in front of an obedient audience tonight.” She winks at them. “I thought you were supposed to be bad children. Running from your homes against your parents’ interdictions to meet someone you don’t know in the woods of Járnviðr is quite reckless, isn’t it?”

 

Boys and girls boast of their mischief by bombing their chest and grinning cheekily. In the first ranks of the children’s crowd, a dwarf girl, holding a tall dark elf’s hand, blushes and stutters: “We…we wanted to hear your tales, minn snót.” The woman warmly smiles at her and kneels so she can caress her unruly hair. “Is that so? Then, I suppose I must honour your request.”

 

The children cheer in unison: “A story! A story!”

 

The lady bows down before such enthusiasm. Adults always bend to the strongest and most innocent wills. “Fine.” She sighs in a fake dejected attitude, her shoulders slumping dramatically.

 

Her nostrils flare and a whisper escapes her lips. “The show can begin.”

 

The woman throws red powder in the air. Suddenly, flames and sparks are irrupting from the void and blaze the entire atmosphere, her spell electrifying the children’s minds. They scream in fear, in hysteria, gripping their hair, tearing locks in the process. Raw energy, finally set free, is flowing in their veins. All of them start running in circle around her tantalizing silhouette like moths when light is enthralling them. Attracting them to the burning truth of words as untouchable as the moon shining through the clouds above their heads.  
Children keep running until the woman lays out her open palms in front of her, telling them to stop. They obey her immediately and sit around the fire while the lady looms over them, tall and regal. The whole scene looks like someone has painted black patterns on a red canvas bringing out the light touch of blue, put in the middle. No child could think correctly or formulate coherent sentences for all of them have cut their minds from their bodies to become empty receptacles. They are ready to drink the knowledge directly from the source.

 

Yet, more preparation is needed for the story she is about to tell them. The lady inhales, her eyes sparkling in mirth. “Look at you, children. Look at the treasure you’ve gathered tonight. Can you see it?” Children exchange puzzled glances. Did someone bring something valuable? The woman rolls her eyes at their loss of words and understanding. “The treasure I’m talking about is uncommon, children. And much more important than all the gold in the nine realms.”

 

Whispers, chats and frowns spread in the circle. Opinions are shared but no one manages to find a proper answer. An aesir tentatively raises his hand. “Are you talking about us, minn snót?”

 

The lady walks slowly in his direction, the boy stares at her eyes to avoid his gaze to wander lower on her body. She crosses her arms and smirks once she catches him anxiously gulping. “Good boy.” She purrs. “You are very promising.” Once the lady walks away to regain her position, he breathes heavily in relief.

 

“Yes, children.” She nods, her voice now clearer than before, her gaze way sharper. “You are a treasure of an inestimable value. You can rejoice as much as you want for what’s happening tonight would have never been possible decades ago.”

 

A sheet of joy wraps itself on the children’s shoulders. They huddle closer to each other; united by the intimate secret the lady has given them. Her golden eyes devour every detail she could perceive in their interactions and she beams when a jötunn boy kisses softly on the cheek a human of the same sex whose blushing face matches his red eyes. A fond smile lights up the amber of the lady’s pupils, reminding the children of hydromel their parents usually drink for important occasions. And they wonder: What could she be thinking of? Where is she, if not with us? Then, the lady kneels on the ground.

 

“You hold your hands…”She murmurs, as soft as a breeze. “…Without recoiling from the touch. You look at each other with curiosity and marvel, there is no hatred, no disgust nor fear in your eyes.” Her voice breaks on the edges.

 

The children are gesticulating their legs, stricken by the desire to stand up and rush to her sides, yet she keeps talking: “You mingle together as if it was natural like breathing. You share many things though your cultures are nothing alike and could have built walls between each one of you if the circumstances were different.”

 

The lady abruptly rises. “Many years before you were born, the sheer thought of a frost giant playing with an aesir would have make people roar in laughter. Impossible, they would have said! We have nothing in common with these mindless beasts!”

 

Incomprehension, chocked expressions, horrified gasps shake her audience. An elf scurries behind a dwarf’s shoulders, sitting next to her. The woman starts walking with deliberate and slow steps as if she is stalking an invisible prey. She glares at it, her cold voice resonating in the children’s bones. “A long time ago, the nine realms were cut from each other by time and space but unified by History, loaded with massacres and wars nothing could possibly amend. Sacrifices had been made.”

 

The children lose themselves in a contemplative silence, the weight of their ancestors hanging above their heads, ready to slice in two the small and peaceful world they created with their games. The solemn moment seems to stretch to eternity, to a long lost era no one can reach. How can you imagine it? A world where boys and girls living in different realms are turned as enemies, forbidden company when they are enjoying such a special night together?

 

The lady interrupts their thoughts by clicking her tongue in annoyance. “The past is far behind but you must understand it. Letting go of horrible events that occurred before is the best thing to do but it should never be mistaken with forgetting.”

 

The children hang themselves strongly on her words, struggling to grasp their essence sliding from her lips, like dry plants waiting for the rain to feed. The woman hands it to them, drop by drop.

 

“You had inherited mistakes and good deeds your ancestors made in the past, indirectly of course for you can’t be condemned for acts which were and will never be your own. But still, old marks remain on your lineage.”

 

She smiles when her audience nods. Honouring the past is one of the first thing the parents teach to their heirs when they are old enough, may they come from Midgard or Asgard or any other realm for it stands as a common law. And tonight, the woman is ready to give them their first lesson. She may be criticized for that later but for the moment, she doesn’t care. The lady beckons the children to come closer as if they are going to plot a secret plan together, her whispering voice tending to confirm it in their wild imagination.

 

“By remembering the past and the horrors it brought, you will enjoy your present to its full extent and realize its true value.”

 

Anticipation seizes her audience; the woman smirks for she gets their attention exactly where she wants it to be. Her hands sweep in the air, catching a gust of wind. Then, she blows on it. Fragments of pictures, moving colours, yellow, red and green sprout from her open palm to dance in front of the children, moved by a general awe. The reflections gleaming inside of her pupils transform them in pure gold.

 

Her voice rips through the atmosphere, knife-like. “My name is Mystique. I am a storyteller. And tonight, I will grant you a tale from the past. A tale of war, friendship, hatred and undying love. This story is yours. Yet, it is mine as well for I’ve lived it.”

 

A pause.

 

“Once upon a time, a small midgardian whose mind shone like thousands shooting stars prepared himself for the most important day of his life.”

 

A shiver.

 

“He was called by many names but you know him from his most terrifying one.”

 

A murmur.

 

“Iron Man.”

**Author's Note:**

> Songs you can hear while reading :
> 
> -Have you got it in you ? by Imogen Heap. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bbDVA5nJW2Y)  
> -Remember Me soundtrack by Olivier Deriviere : Fragments. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHOAWapk0ps)


End file.
